“Delighted,” replied the commander of the gunboat.

One of the “Hudson’s” cutters being now in the water alongside, the party went ashore in this.  Jack, after bidding the naval officers good-night, found Hal and Eph, who had just come ashore from supper on board the “Farnum.”

“No sailing orders yet, I suppose?” Hal asked.

“None,” Jack replied.  “I reckon we’ll start, all right, some time to-morrow morning.”

“What’ll we do to-night?” Eph wondered.

“I don’t know,” replied Jack.  “We’ve few friends around here we need to take the trouble to say good-bye to.  We could call on Mrs. Farnum, but I imagine we’d run into the naval party up at the Farnum house.  We want to keep a bit in the background with these naval officers, except when they may ask for our company.”

“Let’s take a walk about the old town, then,” Hal suggested.

So the three submarine boys strolled across the shipyard.  Just as they were passing through the gate a man of middle height and seemingly about thirty years of age quickened his pace to reach them.

“Is this shipyard open nights?” he queried.

“Only to some employees,” Jack answered.

“I suppose Mr. Farnum isn’t about?”

“No.”

“Captain Benson?”

“Benson is my name.”

“This letter is addressed to Mr. Farnum,” went on the stranger, “but Mr. Pollard told me I could hand it to you.”

Captain Jack took the letter from the unsealed envelope.

“My dear Farnum,” ran the enclosure, “since you’re short a good machinist for the engine room of the ‘Farnum,’ the bearer, Samuel Truax, seems to me to be just the man you want.  I’ve examined him, and he understands the sort of machinery we use.  Better give him a chance.”  The note was signed in David Pollard’s well-known, scrawly handwriting.

“I’m sorry you can’t see Mr. Farnum to-night,” said Benson, pleasantly.  “He’ll be here early in the morning, though.”

“When do you sail?” asked Truax, quickly.

“That you would have to ask Mr. Farnum, too,” smiled Jack.

“But, see here, Mr. Pollard engaged me to work aboard one of your submarines.”

“It looks that way, doesn’t it?” laughed the young skipper.

“And you’re the captain?”

“Yes; but I can’t undertake to handle Mr. Farnum’s business for him.”

“You’ll let me go aboard the craft to sleep for to-night, anyway?” coaxed Truax.

“Why, that’s just what I’m not at liberty to do,” replied the young submarine captain.  “No; I couldn’t think of that, in the absence of Mr. Farnum’s order.”

“But that doesn’t seem hardly fair,” protested Truax.  “See here, I have spent all my money getting here.  I haven’t even the price of a lodging with me, and this isn’t a summer night.”

“Why, I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” Benson went on, feeling in one of his pockets.  “Here’s a dollar.  That’ll buy you a bed and a breakfast at the hotel up the street.  If you want to get aboard with us in time, you’d better show up by eight in the morning.”